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Poetry: December 31, 2008 Issue [#2798]

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Poetry


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  Edited by: larryp
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Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

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Each time a man stands up for an ideal,
or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice,
he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.
~~Robert Francis Kennedy



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Letter from the editor

Over the next few months, I will feature poets from around the world in the Poetry Newsletter. These poets are well-known and honored in their respective countries, but are relatively unknown to the rest of the world, due mainly to language barriers. The poems of the poets will be translated into English, but I will provide a link where their poetry may be viewed in its original language.

Icelandic poet Jónas Hallgrímsson was born in 1807 on a farm in Öxnadalur, the north central part of Iceland. He was the third of four children born to Hallgrímur Þorsteinsson and Rannveig Jónasdóttir, who made a stable living farming. Most of his childhood schooling took place at home by his parents.

During Jónas Hallgrímsson’s childhood, the economic conditions of Iceland were unsteady for two main reasons. During this time, the Napoleonic wars brought hostility between Denmark and England, which caused disruptions of trade with Iceland; the weather conditions during this time were terrible, especially in the north of Iceland, which impeded the growth of crops.

When he was eight years old, Jónas’ father drowned when the fishing boat was capsized. The young Jónas and his brother dragged their father’s body to shore and ran home to tell their mother. Years later, Jónas Hallgrímsson wrote a poem, “Lay in Grief” of the tragic event.

“Lay in Grief”
by Jónas Hallgrímsson
translated by Dick Ringler
Professor, University of Wisconsin-Madison


I was only a boy
when the blind waters
slaked his sight
and sealed it forever,
but I cannot forget
that grievous loss ---
the first in the world ---
when my father died.

I remember the steadfast
strength of his soul,
the sheer affection
that shone from his eyes;
they gushed their love
like God's fair sun
quickening the green
grass in spring.

I remember the tears
my mother shed
knowing her husband
would never come home,
the love of her life
and light of her world ---
her children's too.
A chill leavetaking!


The following years were unhappy ones for the young Jónas. After his father's death, Jónas went to live with his mother sister in Upper Eyjafjörður, where he came under the tutelage of the Rev. Jón Jónsson "the Learned," where he learned Latin and was judged to have the capacity of further education.

In his ensuing education at Bessastaðir, Jónas “acquired an intimate familiarity with the traditional oral and written culture of his country;” this is portrayed in much of his poetry.
For more about Jónas Hallgrímsson and to read his poetry in the original language, see:
http://www.library.wisc.edu/etext/Jonas/Biography/Biography.3.html


Jónas Hallgrímsson helped found the Icelandic magazine Fjölnir, first published in Copenhagen in 1835. The magazine was a nationalistic effort by the poets of his day to invoke nationalism into the hearts of the Icelandic people to incite resistance against Danish rule. One of the most beloved poets of Iceland, Jónas Hallgrímsson died in Copenhagen, Denmark in 1845 following blood-poisoning after he refused to have a broken leg mended.

One of the founding fathers of romanticism in Iceland, Jónas Hallgrímsson’s poetry reflects upon the landscape and nation of Iceland; he was also one of the first in his country to introduce metered poetry.


“Iceland”
by Jónas Hallgrímsson

Charming and fair is the land,
and snow-white the peaks of the jokuls [glaciers],
Cloudless and blue is the sky,
the ocean is shimmering bright,
But high on the lave fields, where
still Osar river is flowing
Down into Almanna gorge,
Althing no longer is held,
Now Snorri's booth serves as a sheepfold,
the ling upon Logberg the sacred
Is blue with berries every year,
for children, s and ravens, delight.
Oh, ye juvenile host
and full-grown manhood of Iceland!
Thus is our forefathers' fame
forgotten and dormant withal.

“Iceland” Translated by Gudmund J. Gislason Beck, Richard, editor, Icelandic Lyrics:Originals and Translations, Thorhallur Bjarnarson, Publisher, Post Box 1001, Reykjavik 1930


On August 5 in Johnson Hall, Gimli, a singular, cultural event took place, inspired by one man’s life and legacy, or the Icelandic nineteenth century poet and natural scientist, Jónas Hallgrímsson. Some time ago, the Ministry of Culture and Education in Iceland formed a committee to organize events throughout this year, in collaboration with cultural institutions, all to honour the memory of Hallgrímsson who was born 200 years ago. Manitoba, being one of the key outposts of Icelandic language and culture outside of Iceland – was drawn into the enchanting enterprise. In a rewarding collaboration with committees on both sides of the Atlantic, the Department of Icelandic organized an event, setting the stage for a farm boy from Öxnadalur who later became one of Iceland’s most gifted natural scientists and in the minds of some, the best poet ever born on the island.
http://umanitoba.ca/faculties/arts/departments/icelandic/projects/hallgrimsson.h...


“I Send Greetings”
by Jónas Hallgrímsson
written in 1845
translated to English

Serene and warm, now southern winds come streaming
to waken all the billows on the ocean,
who crowd toward Iceland with an urgent motion —-
isle of my birth! where sand and surf are gleaming.

Oh waves and winds! embrace with bold caresses
the bluffs of home with all their seabirds calling!
Lovingly, waves, salute the boats out trawling!
Lightly, oh winds, kiss glowing cheeks and tresses!

Herald of spring! oh faithful thrush, who flies
fathomless heaven to reach our valleys, bearing
cargoes of song to sing the hills above:

there, if you meet an angel with bright eyes
under the neat, red-tasselled cap she's wearing,
greet her devoutly! That's the girl I love.


Editor's Picks

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Lanes that weave for no reason, roads that change in the storm; a little post-beat riff.
#546800 by Jay's debut novel is out now! Author IconMail Icon

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An impression of a quiet lake in the middle of the jungle
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Ask & Answer

Have a safe and happy New Years Day and a wonderful 2009.
Stay warm.
Help those who are less fortunate than you.

Listen to the wind...
kansaspoet
Larry

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